


(Ruined) Perfection

by sunaddicted



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, Fluff and Angst, Injury Recovery, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, post-Thangorodrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maitimo - the Well-shaped one - they had called him, but where had his fabled perfection gone to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Ruined) Perfection

Maedhros shakily untangled himself from the sheets pinning him down on the mattress and slowly walked to the mirror, which was covered by a beautifully embroidered drape; it had been Fingon who had hidden the reflecting glass, making Maedhros wonder about whether he truly looked that bad – bad to the point his cousin had thought best for him to occlude any glimpse of his own reflection.

Covering the barely two-meter long distance was excruciating: every single bone in his body ached viciously and his muscles spasmed with the effort, no longer used to movement after having spent such a long time immobile.

He loathed being so weak.

It was with a dissatisfied grimace that he slumped against the sturdy frame of the mirror and tiredly tugged at the drape with his left hand, mentally cursing the clumsiness of his cramped fingers.

Maedhros wasn’t a coward, but he idly studied the cloth pooling at his feet for a couple of minutes before raising his gaze in order to face himself; despite not being yet aware of his looks, he knew he had better gather his strength before taking in the harsh reality.

The first feature he focused upon was his hair. He remembered the way it had curled around his shoulders in soft and luscious waves smelling of spices and honey; now it was an untamed mess of tangled knots that hung limply well past below his too thin hips, its cardinal red faded to a duller and unflattering shade.

Immediately after, his silvery irises darted to his skin that once had been milky-soft and tenderly freckled when exposed to too much light; the constant assault of the elements while hanging from the Thangorodrim had considerably roughened it.

He had lost too much weight, if the way the nightgown hung limply from his shoulders was anything to go by, and his cheeks had hollowed to the point the bones of his face were clearly visible.

Circled by bluish rings, his unnaturally bewildered eyes stared back at him and his lips were dry and split in several places, completely deforming the contours of his mouth.

But all of that Maedhros could have accepted; after some time spent recovering, following a nutrient diet and doing some exercising would have put him again in shape.

The horrible truth was that, no matter how much he slept and ate, his right hand would never regrow to once more serve him. It was with a mix of morbid fascination and disgust that he inspected the thick bandages wrapped around his forearm, slightly speckled with fresh blood and hiding from the world the useless stump.

Maitimo – the Well-shaped one – they had called him, but where had his fabled perfection gone to? Nothing about his body suggested harmony, there was no balance in the silhouette of his body: only awkward edges and broken lines.

Maedhros didn’t bother covering the glass – it was too late to erase the disgusting reflection from the forefront of his mind – and he limped back to the bed, climbing atop of it with some difficulty that frustrated him even more. Once again amidst the cool sheets, he closed his eyes and tried to force himself back in a state of slumber, heaving a deep and sad sigh when his thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone.

Why hadn’t Fingon killed him? After all those years the air between them had still been so sour that his cousin had rather deny him a free pass to the Halls of Mandos?

* * *

 

Fingon nervously paced in front of his cousin’s chambers, warily eyeing the heavy and carved doors.

His desire to see Maitimo was great and even greater was the nagging need to check over him, to make sure he looked more alive than he had when he had saved him from Morgoth’s evil clutches.

In theory, calming his mind would have been quite easy: he just needed to push open the damned doors – not a particularly life-endangering task, especially since Maedhros was currently bed-ridden and weak.

But it had been so long since they had spoken face to face and hadn’t departed in the best of terms; not that it was surprising if one considered their situation: they had been lovers in a society that frowned upon same sex relationships – more so if it was two princes that were involved with each other, instead of thinking about heirs – and that harshly condemned incest. To boot, their families were constantly pitted one against the other and quite eager to spill their own kin’s blood. It had been a miracle that their relationship had ever seen the light, defying – even if briefly and quite unsuccessfully – all the pressures weighing over their young minds.

Breathing in deeply in the vain attempt to calming his nerves and uselessly clearing his voice, Fingon steeled himself and fisted the handle of the door. He could do it: Maedhros did call him the Valiant, after all.

Fingon made sure to make a quiet entrance, avoiding any noise that could have waken his cousin up.

He shouldn’t have bothered, since Maitimo was wide awake and having troubles holding a book and turning its pages with just one hand at his disposal. It was a sight that made Fingon’s heart squeeze painfully in his ribcage and wish nothing more than smother his former lover in kisses and hugs.It was a sight that made Fingon’s heart squeeze painfully in his ribcage and wish nothing more than smother his former lover in kisses and hugs «You shouldn’t be reading» he scolded him softly, feeling a silly smile plastered over his lips.

Maedhros looked up from his book and attempted to smile back, but gave up in the end when he could feel the barely healed cuts on his mouth straining to tear themselves apart again «Findekáno» he greeted his host, trying to not linger on the memories of the last time he had tasted that smile on his tongue «Please, come in»

Fingon closed the doors behind his back and walked to the huge bed, sitting on its edge to be closer to his cousin and better inspect his injuries «How are you feeling?»

Uncomfortable with the other’s closeness, Maedhros hid the stump under the covers and slightly hung his head, casting a shadow on his gaunt and sickly-looking features «As well as can be expected» It was his truthful answer: he couldn’t lie about his health conditions if he wanted to heal.

The heat of a blush cut short Fingon’s breath: he knew it had been a stupid question to ask, but what could have he said? Are we over our fathers’ idiotic issues? Because I still find you incredibly sexy and really would like to fuck you, possibly before the next Age «It will take some time but you’ll be alright» His blush boiled hotter under his golden skin as the stupid words left his mouth: Maitimo would never be whole and all right again «How’s the pain?»

Maedhros frowned at his cousin’s restless fidgeting «It’s manageable» he replied, eyes still focused on Fingon’s reddened cheeks that reminded him of hurried love making «Are you okay?»

Fingon hummed and abruptly stood up «I’ll go and fetch the healer»

Maedhros was left staring at his cousin’s retreating back, confusion and hurt fluttering in his tightly knotted stomach: was he so disgusting that Findekáno had to flee the horrid spectacle he made?

 

 

* * *

 

It was almost a month before Fingon approached again his cousin, too ashamed by his display of foolishness to stand being in the same room with him.

He had never stopped observing – spying – his Maitimo, though, and had rejoiced every single time he had noticed any kind of improvement – no matter how small and insignificant: the lessening of his limping, the newly fulfilled cheeks, the reinvigorated shine of his hair, the confidence with which he strode the halls. Not even the stump seemed to bother him as it had at the beginning of his recovery: surely, he didn’t paraded it around like a trophy, but neither he hid it as if it was a shameful secret.

So, when they crossed paths, instead of running away after a hasty greeting, Fingon engaged Maedhros in some small talk.

The smile on Maitimo’s face was so warm that Fingon found beauty even in the scars that twisted the shape of that plump mouth, the long-buried love for him blossoming again under the guise of a rosy flush heating his cheeks.

* * *

 

Maedhros was no longer perfect, not in the usual terms: he was too scarred, both physically and psychologically. But he had learned to cope and if he still had nightmares that made him thrash in bed, well, nobody was going to know if his cousin managed to keep his talented mouth shut – something he had quite some confidence in, since he hadn’t blabbered about their relationship when younger.

Mainly, it was because of Findekáno if he had such a frame of mind: Maedhros didn’t care about much in Arda, but his cousin’s opinion he had always held in high respect – even when it had been the complete opposite of his own.

«Are you brooding again, Maitimo?» Fingon asked, lightly tugging at a perfect and thin braid, marveling about how, despite his disability, his lover still could braid his hair better than him. Maedhros scowled at the nickname but didn’t complained out loud: his cousin had made it pretty clear that he still found him well-shaped and attractive «I don’t brood»

«Sure you don’t, love» Findekáno grinned up at him. Exasperated, Maedhros bent down to kiss that idiotic smile, mapping its seams with the moist tip of his tongue: maybe he brooded a little bit, but he didn’t need to smile so much when he could taste his lover’s happiness. It was way more than enough. It was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> I spent the day rereading the Silmarillion and angsting over Maedhros so, I decided to write some loving Russingon <3 It's the first time I try my hand at this pairing: let me know if I messed it up!


End file.
